


Climb

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: Meera leaves Winterfell just as the sky is growing light. She rides away and doesn’t look behind her, not until she knows she is far enough away that there is no question of turning back. Until she knows nobody is coming to ask her to turn around.She returns home. The raven follows her.





	Climb

Meera leaves Winterfell just as the sky is growing light, with none to see her off but a few sleepy guards. She rides away and fixes her gaze on the road ahead of her and wills herself to focus on the future. On what still needs to be done. The past can stay in the past, where it belongs.  

She rides away and doesn’t look behind her, not until she knows she is far enough away that there is no question of turning back. Until she knows nobody is coming to ask her to turn around. A deep fog has rolled in and she strains her eyes to see the castle in the distance. In her mind, she pictures Bran still sitting right where she left him, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing. In that moment, she had wanted to slap him. Shove him out of his chair. Rage at him until he blinked and came back to her; until he said the words she had so badly wanted to hear. _I still need you. Please, Meera. Stay._

What a fool she was.

The worst thing was that a part of her had already known that Bran was gone. She had watched him disappear. And it had still stung her anyway. After all this time…

She turns her back on Winterfell and rides home.  

* * *

The preparations for war never end. Here, at least, there is something she can do. She spends her days in training and in meetings that drag on late into the night, endlessly marking up maps and discussing army movements and supply chains and expenses. Then she returns to her quarters and collapses into her bed, not even bothering to change her clothes or slide under the covers, but even in her dreams she can find no peace. The three eyed raven hovers at the edge of her vision; the flapping of its wings whispering in her ears.

_Go away_ , she tells it. _You have brought me nothing but sorrow. The least you can do is leave me alone._

She has never had the sight. She would never have admitted it, but she envied Jojen when they were small, for the sight made her brother special, made him somebody important. Bran was the same way. But for Meera, there is no great destiny. For Meera, there is no escaping this world. She can only do what she has always done, and try to make herself useful. Make herself needed.  

The seasons turn. The work continues. From morning to night, the air is filled with the clanging of the blacksmith and his apprentices forging new weapons. Messengers come and go, bearing news from Kings Landing, from the Wall, from Winterfell. Meera reads dispatches from Sansa Stark, written in her beautiful looping hand. She never mentions Bran. He might as well not exist. And still the three eyed raven comes to visit Meera in the night. No longer just waiting at the periphery; it perches on the branches of the heart tree and watches her. _What do you want?_ she asks irritably, but there is no answer. When she is between sleep and wakefulness, she can sense it there in the dark beside her, still watching.

_What do you want?_ she asks it every night. Then, finally, Meera understands. It wants to show her something. _Take me to him_ , she says, and the raven spreads its wings and flies away, and Meera flies too, soaring over the dark forests and snow-capped peaks back to the north. Back to Winterfell. Back to the past.

When gravity pulls her gently back down to earth, she finds herself standing at the bottom of a stone tower. Meera stifles a gasp when she sees Bran far above her, scrambling up the wall. The three-eyed raven blinks at her. _Climb_ , it says. _Climb._

She climbs, but he is faster and nimbler than her, and he does not hear her when she calls. She cranes her neck upward and watches him grasp the thick vines and peer into the tower window. A hand reaches out from inside and grips Bran by the collar. Meera squints and tries to see the man’s face, but it is hidden in the shadows. For a moment, everything is still. Then the man shoves him from the ledge.  

_Bran!_ she screams and reaches for him, so close she feels the air move between her fingertips and his. She catches a glimpse of his expression, eyes wide with recognition, seeing _her_ ; for once, seeing her. Then he falls.

Meera wakes up sobbing and alone.

Every night after that, the raven leads her to him. _Climb_ , it says, night after night. And she does, arms straining, feet slipping on the stones. She climbs until sweat streams down her face and her hands bleed and her breath comes in ragged short gasps. It is never enough. From below, she watches the faceless man push Bran from the window sill over and over again. Each time, she reaches for him, and each time, she misses. Bran falls and falls.

The dreams begin to intrude on her waking hours. In the mornings she finds her palms scraped and bloody and her nails broken. When she closes her eyes, she still sees Bran falling. It breaks her concentration during training sessions. She can barely bring herself to eat. She knows her family is anxious for her, but what can she possibly say to them? And Jojen, the only one who would understand—

At last, she can no longer bear it. When the raven drops her back down to the base of the tower for the hundredth time, she shakes her head. _I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to watch him fall._

The raven cocks its head to the side. _That is your choice, Meera Reed._

She tears her gaze from the raven and looks up. Bran is halfway up the tower already, climbing with ease, climbing without fear. He doesn’t know what awaits him at the top, just as they didn’t know what lay beyond the Wall. Even Jojen, with his sight, hadn’t seen everything. Or perhaps he had wanted to spare her. Meera’s heart aches as she watches Bran climb. _Little prince; oh my little lost prince…_

She runs to the tower wall, just as she has countless times, and climbs after him. Just like before, she is never as quick as he is, and when he steps onto the window sill she’s still a few feet below him. Meera closes her eyes and hears the murmur of conversation above her. She takes a deep breath, loosens her grip on the stones, and makes her choice, and this time, when Bran falls, she shoves herself backwards from the wall. This time, she catches his hand and they fall together.

She braces for the impact, but it doesn’t come. Instead, they keep falling, passing through the earth, down and down and down into the darkness until at last it swallows them whole and she sees nothing.

* * *

Meera wakes under the heart tree, the branches and leaves gradually coming into focus. Snow falls on her face, but somehow she isn’t cold. She sits up slowly to see Bran propped up against the trunk of the heart tree. No longer the boy who had fallen in her dreams, nor the three eyed raven who had bid her farewell in Winterfell. Just…Bran.

_You found me_ , he says, and his voice is thick with emotion. _How did you…?_

It takes all her willpower to not throw her arms around him and cry. She forces herself to answer instead. _The three-eyed raven showed me the way._

He nods, and then his face twists with pain. _I’m so sorry_ , he chokes. _I’m sorry for Jojen. And Hodor, and Summer. I’m sorry for everything._

It takes her a long time to find her voice again. _I know. Come back with me, Bran._

He gazes at her, startled, and then looks away. _I can’t do that_ , he whispers. _You have to go back._ _I need to be the three-eyed raven. The war is not over yet._

Meera draws her knees up to her chest. _The world also needs Brandon Stark_ , she reminds him.

He gives her the ghost of a smile. _The world, or you?_

_Both_ , she admits, and when she says it she feels a weight lift from her heart. _Come back, Bran. You don’t have to do this all by yourself._

Still, he hesitates. _I can’t return, not yet. But you always know where to find me. I am not so far away._

She drops to her knees by his side. Her voice cracks slightly. _I am so tired, Bran. I am heartsick. And now you tell me I must go back alone._

_Not alone_ , Bran says, and takes her hand. He is so warm. So wonderfully, gloriously himself. She kisses him right there in the shade of the heart tree, because why shouldn’t she?

_It wasn’t the raven that brought you here_ , he says when they finally break apart. _It was you._

_Bran—_

_I need you too._

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I watched the series when it came out up until season 4, then stopped, and recently saw some clips from season 7, and hoo boy. So please forgive any lapses in my memory or deviations from what's happened in the show.


End file.
